Sketches by Boz

by Charles Dickens

For aught I know, you may
give me up to justice; but unless you do, here I stop, until I can
venture to escape abroad.'

For two whole days, all three remained in the wretched room,
without stirring out. On the third evening, however, the girl was
worse than she had been yet, and the few scraps of food they had
were gone. It was indispensably necessary that somebody should go
out; and as the girl was too weak and ill, the father went, just at
nightfall.

He got some medicine for the girl, and a trifle in the way of
pecuniary assistance. On his way back, he earned sixpence by
holding a horse; and he turned homewards with enough money to
supply their most pressing wants for two or three days to come. He
had to pass the public-house. He lingered for an instant, walked
past it, turned back again, lingered once more, and finally slunk
in. Two men whom he had not observed, were on the watch. They
were on the point of giving up their search in despair, when his
loitering attracted their attention; and when he entered the
public-house, they followed him.

'You'll drink with me, master,' said one of them, proffering him a
glass of liquor.

'And me too,' said the other, replenishing the glass as soon as it
was drained of its contents.

The man thought of his hungry children, and his son's danger. But
they were nothing to the drunkard. He DID drink; and his reason
left him.

'A wet night, Warden,' whispered one of the men in his ear, as he
at length turned to go away, after spending in liquor one-half of
the money on which, perhaps, his daughter's life depended.

'The right sort of night for our friends in hiding, Master Warden,'
whispered the other.

'Sit down here,' said the one who had spoken first, drawing him
into a corner. 'We have been looking arter the young un. We came
to tell him, it's all right now, but we couldn't find him 'cause we
hadn't got the precise direction. But that ain't strange, for I
don't think he know'd it himself, when he come to London, did he?'

'No, he didn't,' replied the father.

The two men exchanged glances.

'There's a vessel down at the docks, to sail at midnight, when it's
high water,' resumed the first speaker, 'and we'll put him on
board. His passage is taken in another name, and what's better
than that, it's paid for. It's lucky we met you.'

'Very,' said the second.

'Capital luck,' said the first, with a wink to his companion.

'Great,' replied the second, with a slight nod of intelligence.

'Another glass here; quick'--said the first speaker. And in five
minutes more, the father had unconsciously yielded up his own son
into the hangman's hands.

Slowly and heavily the time dragged along, as the brother and
sister, in their miserable hiding-place, listened in anxious
suspense to the slightest sound. At length, a heavy footstep was
heard upon the stair; it approached nearer; it reached the landing;
and the father staggered into the room.

The girl saw that he was intoxicated, and advanced with the candle
in her hand to meet him; she stopped short, gave a loud scream, and
fell senseless on the ground. She had caught sight of the shadow
of a man reflected on the floor. They both rushed in, and in
another instant the young man was a prisoner, and handcuffed.

'Very quietly done,' said one of the men to his companion, 'thanks
to the old man.